Sometimes
by Covenmouse
Summary: ...you just have to face the facts about what you need and what you want.


**Disclaimer:**

I do not own, or claim to, Sailor Moon and any of it's related properties. This piece is written for fun, without profit.

~~**~~

The rain outside the café was almost poetic in its being. At least, Minako thought that it was poetic—she had never been a connoisseur of the written word, like Ami or Rei, but there was something about the rain dripping from the awning outside in melancholy harmony to the song within her heart… or something like that, anyway. She sighed and turned the page in the magazine that lay upon the table in front of her. The latest fashion trends, fashion don'ts, and celebrity gossip spread before her on shining gloss paper, but it all blurred to nonsense before her eyes.

It was the rain, Minako decided, and she reached for her coffee.

The sharp tang of mint-chocolate cappuccino tweaked her nose. The smile that the scent would have normally drawn was watery today. She took her sip and put the cup back down, unsatisfied with her holiday treat.

Christmas lights blinked into life down the street as neon signs flickered into light. Between the rain and the dark tumble of clouds stretched across what little patch of sky one could see from the shop window, it was difficult to tell what time of day it was. Resisting the urge to gulp, Minako bent to retrieve her bag from her feet.

A buzzing began from inside the cavernous purse even as she set it on her lap. Minako snatched the first few items from the top of the bag—wallet, sunglasses, make-up case, appointment book—before she found the pearl-orange device ringing at the bottom of the bag. She flipped it open with one hand as she repacked the bag and put the phone to her ear. "Hello," the woman sing-songed merrily to silence on the other end.

Minako held the phone away again to frown at the little box in the middle of the LCD screen.

"You have a text message," the phone informed her, oblivious to her hatred of it.

She bit her bottom lip and pressed "OK."

"Did you get the notes I e-mailed you?" Rei's message asked, just as uncaring of her pain as the phone was. Minako huffed and dropped her purse back onto the ground at her feet. Leaning her elbow on the table, she punched in a quick reply and let the cell phone clatter onto the table.

She settled her cheek against her fist and stared at the very unhelpful cup of Christmas coffee. Her nails made an interesting noise against the side of it, but that was neither amusing nor distracting, today. Once again she sighed, took a sip, and then grabbed her phone back up to stare at the device's betraying clock. It absolutely was not six-thirty!

Only it was.

The cell buzzed to life before she could put it down, and once again Minako flipped up its top to read Rei's reply. "You responded—I'm guessing he didn't show."

Hot tears pricked at her eyes and Minako closed them until the urge to cry abated; it took several minutes.

When she opened her eyes again, nothing had changed. Her phone was silent but for Rei's question, there was no lover miraculously appeared on the other side of the table, nor the other side of the glass, and the rain dripped steadily on against the soft crooning of Christmas carols over the shop's radio. Her lips pressed together until she felt that they might melt into one, and then she slowly typed a reply to her friend.

Setting the phone aside, Minako lifted her coffee cup with both hands to take a long draught from it. The heat in her stomach settled some of the gathering nerves, and when she'd drained the last of the drink, she stood and walked quietly to the trash can to throw it away.

Across the room, her cell phone buzzed again. Minako knew better than to think that it was him; it was only Rei, telling her what she already knew. Most days, she was happy to have such a solid woman for a best friend… today it was an annoyance.

Though the barista smiled at her as she passed, Minako said nothing and refused to acknowledge him. She collected a pen from her bag—one of the bright, orange gels she used to write on the margins of her textbooks—and scrawled a few, clipped characters across the front of the magazine. In another moment she'd tossed the cell phone into her bag, collected her belongings and rolled the magazine up in her hand.

The barista jumped when she dropped the magazine down on the counter in front of him. "A man may come in here asking for me. Long white hair, Arabic… you can't miss him. Could you give this to him, if he does?"

She pushed the magazine across the counter to the startled worker, who took picked it up after a second's hesitation. Minako turned on her heel once he'd stuttered his agreement and made for the door at a quick clip; the faster that she left the scene, the faster that she could put the past six months behind her.

Sometimes love was just a waste of time.

~~**~~

**Author's note:**

This is intended to be a one shot, though there may be an equally short follow up sometime in the near future. It's heavily inspired by the song "There's a Fine, Fine Line" from Avenue Q. Anyone interested in listening to it can find it on Youtube, Imeem, and probably other streaming sites. 3 Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed it.

~Rae.


End file.
